Stitch Me Up
by Tress Blues
Summary: Hannah Abott: D.A Member, Hufflepuff, survivor of the Last Battle, Healing Apprentice to Mme Pomfrey and hopelessly smitten with Neville Longbottom. So what happens when she's assigned him as a patient after the Battle of Hogwarts?  Short Story  COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Stitch Me Up  
><strong>_Tress Blues_

_1_

_It was over. And yet it wasn't, _she thought to herself, carefully fixing the jagged wounds of a Ravenclaw Fourth Year who had snuck back into the castle. _Lucky he's still here really. _She added when the boy hissed in pain. "No more sneaking into battle, alright Corner?" she told him, sternly but with a touch of humour in her eyes. The boy smiled sheepishly, though his eyes were still stormy.

"Sure." He mumbled and she decided to cut him some slack. She knew his brother Michael after all who wasn't such a bad guy. Corner Junior would be fine. With a deep breath she continued on, fixing bandages here and scolding patients for picking their newly healed skin there. In front of her, the grimy, blood stained uniform of the Hogwarts medical matron flitted back and forth between critical patients.

When Madame Pomfrey beckoned her with a flick of the fingers, Hannah Abbott fixed her hair back in a sadly grimy tail and ploughed ahead, barely keeping up with the matron. The short woman's steps might not have been particularly long but they were quick on a usual day.

Today was most certainly _not _a usual day.

Hogwarts Castle lay in ruins about their feet- crumbling piles of bricks that used to be walls, the sick stench of blood and sweat and tears, the portraits lying empty in piles of cracked frames beside the walls. All of it was like it had been created just for some sort of Muggle horror film but Hannah had seen the pre-battle Castle and this was a heartbreaking sight for anyone who had seen the wonder of Hogwarts before Voldemort ruined it.

_Ruins everything, _she added, her own chest aching. The Hogwarts foyer had been transformed into a makeshift emergency room and it was here that Hannah fed, soothed, bandaged, spelled and healed the broken and dying. She couldn't find it within herself to take part in the celebrations occurring in the Great Hall- the sounds were enough to convince her that she didn't belong among the joy of a final victory. No, her place was here, among the grieving and the injured.

She hastened her step, keeping one eye on the Madam and another on the floating medical supplies that were charmed to levitate along behind her as she moved. Hannah recalled a time when simple Levitating Charms had been considered so impossible but now she barely had to keep a thought to the spell she kept going while she walked.

"Abbott," Madame Pomfrey said suddenly, pausing alongside an unconscious woman with badly cut eyes. "Go check on Aisle C and start stitches and healing where they're needed. Merlin knows I won't be there for a while."

They were still waiting on support staff from St Mungo's, though they were meant to arrive within the hour. Swallowing down a paralysing fear of accidentally messing up the healing process, Hannah nodded and flicked her wand, sending the supplies zooming over to Aisle C, which was nothing more than a crudely transformed set of cots with bleeding and dying victims all over them.

Hannah had never considered herself to be brave. She'd been sorted into Hufflepuff in her First Year and the House fit her like a glove. She wasn't cut out to be a hero and it was something she'd always known and accepted, until her Sixth Year.

In April, Hannah received a Ministry owl consoling her on the death of both her mother and unborn brother at the hands of Death Eaters, not to mention the subsequent insanity of her father, who had been admitted to the Psychiatric Ward at St Mungo's. Suddenly her life, which had seemed so solid, had crumbled away and there was nothing to be done.

Hannah had always known she wasn't cut out to be a hero but at that moment, she knew she had to do something.

It was then that she started taking an interest in healing and patching up those that had been hurt; those that had been brave and with her help, could be brave again. She played the passive part of support in the War but she found the role fulfilling nonetheless.

Upon finding herself in Aisle C, Hannah found her whole body trembling as she took in the gory sight of lost limbs and blood stained clothes, though her own robes were red as well. Steadying herself, she took a step forward and found herself lost in her work once more.

"It's okay, she's alright," she soothed one particularly terrified Second Year who was watching her stitch up his sister's nine-inch-long neck wound. "She's very brave." The boy whimpered. "What's her name?" She wasn't anywhere near to being done and he already looked fit to burst into tears. The tie around both the siblings necks marked them as Gryffindors, which didn't surprise her.

"M-Melissa." The boy stuttered.

Hannah smiled, warmly which was hard to do when you're in the process of sewing up bleeding flesh so the bone won't keep poking out. "Melissa? Melissa Weiss?"

"Y-yeah. She's a Fifth Year." The boy straightened and Hannah began to see some of the fear edge away as he began to talk about her. The girl beneath her moaned a little and the boy paused, terrified.

"No, no," Hannah told him, snipping away the final thread. The thread was Spell-Stitch-Me, so it would probably need to be in for another day or two but it would make the process much easier and quicker in the long run. "Keep talking to her. She's probably rather scared right now, I'm sure she'd like to hear you."

The boy glared at her indignantly. "Mel doesn't get scared." He told her, matter-of-factly.

Hannah held in a sigh. "I'm sure she doesn't. Why don't you keeping chatting and I'll be back to check on you later, okay?" The boy nodded his head and Hannah picked up her things and shuffled onto the next patients who were a thirty-five year old Auror who insisted on being treated by St Mungo's officers, a pair of burnt Seventh Years and an eleven year old Muggleborn who had been in the Carrow's dungeon when the battle broke out.

The girl broke Hannah's heart and she made sure that she was comfortable and clean and managed to get a smile out of her before she moved on. "Thank you Hannah!" the girl croaked, cheerfully. Her voice had been screaming for days. Hannah smiled back and moved on, feeling as though the world couldn't be a more awful place than it was now.

For a second, she felt an exhaustion try to settle on her but Hannah was an Abbotts and Abbotts were Hufflepuffs and Hufflepuffs worked hard and didn't give up.

So she shook it off and moved on, distracted by the First Year as she got to her next patient. Who incidentally wasn't alone.

_Oh Merlin, _she thought, her eyes widening and her breath beginning to pick up pace. _He's here, he's _actually _here._

She couldn't do this. Holy Helga, she couldn't. She'd never get through it! She was about to pass out, her face felt pale and-

"Oh get a move on girl, I haven't got all day!" her next patient snapped, harshly.

Because who should be laying on the next cot, struggling to sit up but Augusta Longbottom and her grandson. Neville.

Now it is a little known fact that Hannah had had a crush on Neville Longbottom since he'd burst into her compartment asking if she'd seen a toad named Trevor hopping about the place. She'd nourished this crush for years in silence, not even confiding in her Hufflepuff sisters, refusing to allow even one word to slip into an ear or a diary or a spare bit of parchments. Slytherins might have a reputation for being crafty but it was the badger that knew how to stay hidden best.

So Hannah Abbott had harboured her feelings, watching him from afar, far too shy to actually say anything. Of course, the moment she _did _decide to talk to him, she found out he was taking Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball and suddenly her stupid ideas of asking him seemed even more ridiculous.

Because how can one even begin to compare the lovely, fiery-haired Weasley girl to plain, blushing, boring Hannah Abbott?

They weren't even on the same _planet_.

But now he was here and Ginny (who, though a nice girl, had been on the receiving end of some very nasty looks over the years) was nowhere in sight and there was Hannah who was about to-

"Well? Are you going to do something or just stand there gaping?" demanded Mrs Longbottom.

To treat his grandmother apparently.

"Gran, please, just lay down for a second." Neville pleaded, gently pushing her back into her bed. The old woman growled at his fussing though from the way her body was trembling, Hannah doubted it was unwarranted.

She tried to regain a little of her professional composure but Merlin was it hard. Hannah was hyper aware that just inches away from her was the long-time star of her daydreams and she was about to treat the most important family relative he had left.

_No pressure_ she thought dryly as she took a spot beside Augusta. "Hello there Mrs Longbottom," she said, warmly. She studiously ignored Neville beside her.

"Have we met?" the old woman snapped.

Hannah flushed pink as she took her vitals and temperature. "No Mrs Longbottom," she replied politely. "But I've met your grandson here. He's in my year at Hogwarts."

"Really?" Augusta seemed far more interested now. "So if you know him, can you please tell him to stop his bloody fussing? It's driving me mad."

If she was pink before, Hannah was practically a Muggle fire engine now. "I'm afraid we don't know each other quite that well Mrs Longbottom," she amended, shyly. "But I'm here now so I'll be doing the fussing I suppose."

"Wonderful," the witch rolled her eyes.

"Oi!" Neville suddenly snapped, angrily, making Hannah jump. "As lovely as it is to be talked about as though I'm not here, _I am _so maybe you could tell me what's wrong with her?"

Hannah shrunk away at the same time Augusta made a well-aimed swipe at the back of his head. "Apologise," she demanded. Hannah got the impression that if she wasn't ordering someone, Mrs Longbottom became very unsatisfied.

"Sorry Hannah." Neville grumbled under his breath but she could hardly stop to focus on the sincerity of his apology. What she was really hung up on was the fact that he knew her name.

"You…know my name?" she whispered, blinking in complete disbelief. They'd never said more than two words to each other and they'd _certainly _never introduced themselves. Hannah would've remembered _that._

Neville looked embarrassed. "'Course I do," he mumbled, scratching his ear. But he didn't elaborate so Hannah forced herself to snap out of it, despite the giddiness running through her.

"Well it seems you've got a bit of a temperature but I don't think it's anything to worry about," Hannah said, still rather flustered. "St Mungo's might want you to go for a bit of a check-up."

Augusta glared at Neville. "Satisfied, silly boy? Now go bring me a glass of water, I'm sure you can find something." She dismissed him and Hannah watched as Neville rolled his eyes and wandered off to find something to make a goblet out of.

Once he was out of earshot, Augusta leaned upwards, her eyes somewhat worried and glazed. "I don't want him to worry but would you look at my arm?" she asked, her teeth gritted. Though she was at least seventy, Augusta had the same round face and hazel brown eyes of her grandson and Hannah couldn't deny her anything so she pulled up the woman's robe sleeve.

She gasped.

The witch's veins were bulgy as came with age but they were wrong; they seemed darker and instantly, Hannah knew the curse and the wizard who uttered it. Evan Rosier and his own designed poison curse. She knew because it was the same one that had killed her mother. It poisoned from the inside out and it was agonisingly painful; a long, slow death. Rosier had a sick sense of humour because he named it the Black Ink Curse.

Hannah took a deep breath and pulled out her wand. "Mrs Longbottom, you're going to have to stay very still," she warned. "Or I'm not going to be able to do this right."

Augusta looked sceptical. "Shouldn't I wait for someone more…experienced?"

Hannah shook her head resolutely. "I can honestly say no one in this castle knows more about this curse than me," she replied, dryly. At first, it had been a way of finding the truth but Hannah's pursuit into research about this particular curse ended up becoming a way of letting her stay close to her mother, sickening as it was to attach herself to Debra Abbott's killer.

Augusta seemed ready to argue but Hannah took one more deep breath and slowly began to cast the very obscure counter-curse she'd memorised since she was fifteen.

Slowly, a shimmer appeared in the air between Hannah's wand and Augusta's arm and eventually, the slow crawling black began to seep away from her veins, moving backwards toward her hand and eventually, once Hannah had it confined to just one fingertip, she squeezed it abruptly and a single drop of black ink rolled out, falling to the floor with a faint hiss.

Augusta let out a huge breath, relieved. "Thank you." She said quietly as Neville began to make his way back. "I had no idea how bad the pain was until was gone."

"What pain Gran?" Neville asked as he appeared carrying a water goblet.

Augusta shrugged delicately. "Of having you badger me. Honestly Neville, when will you learn, I am far more capable than you give me credit."

"I worry Gran-" Neville tried to explain but sensing a fight, Hannah cut in.

"You're bleeding."

The two Longbottom froze and immediately all eyes were on Neville, who's forehead was beginning to swell and bleed. "The gash is hidden in your hair," Hannah explained, too distracted by her work to realise the enormity of what she was about to do. "It's just started to break the skin. Did you fall over or something?"

Neville scowled and too late, Hannah realised how insensitive her comment was. "Well? Answer the healer, Neville!" Augusta ordered, with a slight glint in her eye.

The raven-haired boy grunted in the positive, not meeting either witches' gaze. "Yeah, a bit."

"I can stitch it up if you like," Hannah offered, gesturing to the bed across from Augusta's. Neville immediately shook his head but another blow from Augusta and he reluctantly moved from her side to the empty cot across Aisle C.

Seeing her grandson's reluctant look, Augusta rolled her eyes and sighed gustily. "Oh I'm napping silly boy, get yourself patch up." And with that, Mrs Longbottom's eyes closed and Neville and Hannah were left looking at a deeply snoring woman.

"Can sleep anywhere, that old bat." Neville murmured. Hannah smiled slightly and cleared her throat.

"So, shall we?" she brandished the needle and Spell-Stitch-Me and Neville seemed wary of both. Rather than waiting for an answer, Hannah reached over and brushed his hair back from his forehead. The move shocked her, literally.

It felt as though little jolts of electricity were racing through her veins, leaving live-wire-trails behind them. She'd never felt anything like it and when she glanced at Neville, she realised, with an embarrassed blush that he'd felt it too. She coughed a little and mumbled something stupid like "static electricity", all the while hoping it wasn't her magic acting haywire because of her proximity to the boy she'd been pining over for seven years.

Slowly, Hannah began the process, her body incapable of ignoring the little sparks jumping across her skin as she started to stitch the long gash right above his hairline. The air was tense and quiet; enough to drive Hannah insane enough to try to actually _speak. _Because obviously, she'd lost her mind. "So…how did you get this?" she asked, quietly.

Neville jolted a little, as though he'd forgotten she was even there which made her heart ache just a little. She _was _invisible to him; even pushing a needle through his skin, she was still invisible.

"Oh, well, I-er- fell over some of the rocks in the courtyard." Neville mumbled. Hannah shuddered, just remembering how the castle had shaken when the giants began to throw boulders as if they were pebbles.

"Well that opened it up," she agreed, her hand shaking ever so slightly. "But what caused it?"

She wasn't usually so prying but honestly, it was the first time she'd spoken more than three words to the boy she thought she was sort of in love with. She wanted to know _everything._ Neville fell silent for a moment though and she thought maybe she'd gone a bit too far.

But then he answered. "It was when they set the Sorting Hat on fire." He said shortly. Hannah paused and drew back, taking a proper look at the mark she was busily stitching. Yes, it was a gash but if she looked closely, there were slight welts raised around it where the flames had met his skin.

"Merlin," she breathed and immediately flicked her wand for the Burn Applicator she carried with her everywhere. When your housemate is Ernie Macmillan, you learn quickly to take it with you. She carefully rubbed in just a bit, frowning at the way the welts stayed persistently raised. "This should take the edge off but I would be careful, they'll become inflamed if you fidget with them."

"Th-thanks." Neville muttered, surprised. "I was going to put some Arcadian Dew on it tomorrow."

Hannah smiled and held up the cream pot. "It's a main ingredient. But I didn't know Hogwarts grew Arcadian Dew anymore." She added, conversationally. _I can do this, _she thought gleefully. _I can get through this._

"They don't. I've been trying to come up with an alternate strain to get rid of some of the nastier properties." Neville explained, seeming a little calmer.

Hannah smiled. "You mean the whole 'wait-until-you're-sleeping-before-trying-to-strangle-you' thing?"

Neville looked almost offensively surprised. "You take Herbology?"

Hannah felt every inch of happiness she had shrink into her toes. "Every year. We're in the same class." She added, morosely. He hadn't even noticed her.

_Of course he didn't notice you idiot! _She yelled at herself. _You're a bloody wallflower!_

Neville suddenly seemed uncomfortable again and Hannah finished her stitches in silence before turning to the cuts on his wrists and hands. Surprisingly, he didn't protest as she rubbed Aloe Oil into the wounds and dabbed away the excess curse-magic that would keep the wounds from healing properly.

_I'm touching his hands. He's holding my hands…_she thought, dazed. She couldn't really understand precisely what made Neville Longbottom seem so very appealing but holy Helga was he appealing.

He was definitely cute with his dark hair and bright eyes; he'd filled out in the past few months and he was good looking, not in the regular way like that Cormac McLaggen boy but in a way that made her just melt whenever he walked past.

And he was just so sweet and awkward and adorable and so excellent at Herbology that she knew he wasn't the dunce everyone else made him out to be. The way he worked with plants made it seem like he could speak with them and she knew he was Professor Sprout's favourite student. Many times, Hannah would wonder why he wasn't put in Hufflepuff with her but it soon became apparent upon entering Seventh Year that Neville would have made a horrible Hufflepuff- he was far too much of Gryffindor.

That was what got Hannah the most: the way he looked after the rest of the students, the way he stood up to their tormentors, the way he did everything he could to help and took all problems in his stride. He made his courage seem so effortless, so mesmerizingly simple. Without the Golden Trio, Hogwarts had thought the Carrows would taint it all but Neville had supported them, even when they were about to crumble.

The moment she saw him mouthing off to the Dark Lord himself was by far the most terrifying of her existence.

_Snap out of it Hannah! _She suddenly growled. _You are not doing this, not again!_

He winced a little when she touched one of the deeper cuts at his wrist and Hannah instantly ceased the pressure. "What's wrong?" she asked in her best Healer voice.

Neville shrugged. "It's just sore from the sword."

As though that was a totally reasonable explanation.

"Sword?" Hannah frowned, her brow furrowed. Neville smiled a little and jerked his head toward the gap between Augusta's cot and the ground and for the first time, Hannah spotted the wink of silver and ruby that peeked out from beneath. "_Godric Gryffindor's sword?_" she whispered, awed.

Neville nodded, still smiling. "It's heavier than it looks though," he reasoned, rubbing his wrist. "A bugger to swing."

"You seemed to manage fine," Hannah muttered, quickly checking the wrist for any sprains. Technically, she probably should be moving on since Neville had no more life-threatening injuries but she could bring herself to leave just yet.

Neville's face darkened a little. "Yeah well, that was pretty stupid in the first place."

"Not stupid," Hannah corrected absently as she frowned at one of the long bleeding lines on his inner left forearm.

"Huh?"

Suddenly realising she'd been thinking out loud, Hannah glanced away, flushed. "N-not stupid," she whispered, seeing that he still wasn't looking away. "Brave. I could never have done that. I'd have passed out."

Then Neville did something she hadn't predicted; he blushed. As though her comment was wildly exaggerating and complimentary, he turned a very bright shade of pink she felt she hadn't seen in years. Although she'd definitely never seen him turn pink because of _her. _She made Neville Longbottom _blush._

A slow smile spread across her face, a warm, bright, inviting smile that hadn't been seen in months, maybe even years. Neville blinked. "You should smile more often," he told her, frankly.

"What?"

Realising just what he'd said but unable to take it back, Neville repeated himself, somewhat awkwardly but sincerely.

Hannah sat back and watched him, happily. "Maybe I have a reason to now." It seemed perfect; a tiny little moment of peace among all this pain and dying.

"Neville! Oh Merlin, we were worried for a moment there, we thought- well, it doesn't matter what we thought, why are you in here?"

And then reality broke it.

Hannah stood up, immediately as Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood appeared beside Neville, flinging their arms around him happily, babbling on about the Great Hall's celebrations and how he was missing out and how Harry wanted to thank him and there were so many people who wanted to speak with him and-

"Well, you're cleared Mr Longbottom," Hannah said, keeping her face completely blank. "You can go to the Great Hall now, though your Grandmother might have stay a little while longer."

And with that, Hannah Abbott turned around and walked away from her perfect moment because it wasn't perfect and there were better things for a hero like Neville to be doing than talking and flattering such a plain little nurse-healer like her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Stitch Me Up  
><strong>_Tress Blues_

_2_

He tried not to stare.

Honestly, he did.

It was just difficult because he was bewildered as to how he'd never noticed her before. Perhaps he thought that if he stared long enough, he'd suddenly have a full recollection of the friendly moments they'd shared and accidentally forgotten. Or maybe it would make up for all the time he'd just let his gaze just skirt over her, as though she were a Crawling Daisy Vine.

Whatever the reason, Neville Longbottom stared at Hannah Abbott as she flitted behind Madame Pomfrey, healing over wounds and soothing those in pain. And he found it so very strange that he seemed to know everyone she was attending and yet, up until a few hours ago, he had no idea she even existed past a name. How bizarre.

"Neville, where's my water?" Gran demanded, her voice croaky. Neville shot a spell into the transformed wooden goblet and passed it to his Gran, carefully. Augusta Longbottom had most certainly seen better days: the arrived St Mungo's healers had confined her to the cot with breathing difficulties and a case of the shakes but it seemed as though Gran was beginning to burn up and her eyes were glazed over.

Dean, Ginny and Luna had already been in to try and coerce him into the Great Hall but he couldn't leave Gran in good conscience without knowing she'd be alright. A part of him wished Hannah would come back and take care of her again; she seemed so good at it.

Hannah flitted amongst her healing patients, most of whom lit up at the sight of her. Her blood-stained robes and soft smile were synonymous with relief in their book as she toned down the pain and kept things under control. Which was really wrong, Neville thought, because she looked as if she hadn't sat down in days.

Her blonde curls had come loose and they fell about her face in a mess. The only part of her that didn't have some kind of grime on it were her hands. _Her pretty, pretty hands…_

Neville had to avert his gaze as he recalled the gentle way she'd brushed back his hair and checked over his arms. He hadn't had anyone do that in ages, since before the Carrows started their nightly detention schedule. Speaking of the devils, Neville watched as one of the Muggleborn First Year's the sibling Death Eaters had tortured began to speak cheerfully with Hannah, who smiled patiently back and healed up an overlooked cut on her arm.

"Well?" Gran suddenly snapped.

Neville stumbled out of his thoughts but the wooden goblet was still full. "Huh?"

"Are you going to _talk _to her, you stupid boy?" Gran demanded, imperiously.

Neville played dumb like he always did with Gran. "Who?" That little comment earned him a whack across the back of the head. "No." Neville answered, grimacing. "I'm not. Why would I?"

"Because obviously, she's caught your fancy. Really boy, for someone so brave as to face Lord Voldemort," Gran relished being able to say the name without fear. "You leave much to be desired elsewhere."

Neville sighed, inwardly rolling his eyes. He'd helped defeat the _Dark bloody Lord _but Gran was still complaining. "She has not," he addressed the first statement. "I'm just waiting until she can come look at you again."

"Oh pish posh," Gran waved him away dismissively. "I'm fine, fit as a fid-" Augusta suddenly broke out into horrible wheezing coughs, her eyes stinging with tears as she retched. Neville leapt to her side immediately, helping her sit up, waving his hands uselessly. _Oh Godric, not now,_ he thought, panicked. _Not after everything. What if she's not fine? What if she's sick? Hurt? She'd have told me… _He was about to call for help but-

"Can you feel this Mrs Longbottom?" came a soft, firm voice and Gran weakly nodded as a new pair of hands slowly pressed into the old witch's spine._ Pretty, pretty hands…_ "Alright, just let them pass…there you are…it's just a bit of excess from the spell, alright? Nothing to be worried over, I'll just filter the little bit remaining." Hannah soothed, gently helping Gran back into the cot.

"Thanks," Neville breathed, relief coursing through him as Gran's breaths began to seem less laboured. "I was-"

"_Aguamenti!_" Hannah interrupted, not paying even the slightest attention as she carefully helped Augusta take a few sips. "You'll need to rest Mrs Longbottom, the process if taxing. No doubt, you simply overworked yourself."

Neville didn't quite know how to feel about being ignored. One would think he'd be used to it by now and of course, he was, but he didn't know how he felt about being ignored by Hannah.

It made him feel…bad. He wanted to have her smile at him again. Like she did when she complimented him. When she said he was brave. Just the memory made him flush a little. He couldn't remember the last time someone called him that other than Gran or his friends.

Oddly, he felt it though. He _felt _brave when Hannah said it.

"I have to keep this one in line somehow dear," Gran laughed hoarsely, jabbing a gnarled finger at her grandson. Hannah laughed with her, politely.

"Well, if you'll excuse me…" she excused herself and without just one ounce of thought, Neville cried out, causing both witches to turn to him with concerned looks. _Bugger,_ he told himself. _This is not a good idea you bloody twat. Hannah's a _healer _and Gran's…Gran._

"Neville? What's wrong?" surprisingly the comment came from Hannah rather than Gran which made Neville simply harden his resolve.

"My arm," he lied. "It's hurting." Well, it was a half-lie. It _was _hurting. A bit.

Hannah's brow furrowed above her bright blue eyes. "Can you roll up the sleeve for me?" she asked, settling onto the cot beside him and taking out her wand.

He complied, feeling more and more nervous as he rolled the torn fabric. Hannah let out a sympathetic hiss as she spotted the bruises and cuts that laced where Neville had been thrown into a wall by Bellatrix Lestrange. "Why didn't you mention this before?" Hannah scolded, leaning closer in to clear the peculiarly bright bruises.

Neville couldn't answer because she was _right _there. So close he could smell a hint of jasmine scent curling off her hair. Strands of bloody, grimy, _shiny _blonde curls that almost touched his skin, tickling it gently. Skin that felt prickly and electric under her dainty, nimble fingers…

"Bugger," Hannah let out a curse that shook Neville from his daydreams which he felt both relieved and frustrated about. "This one's gotten infected. Come on, the St Mungo's tent has a cream for that. Spells will just inflame it."

Without another word, she wrapped those pretty fingers around his wrist and began dragging him along the aisles. "Wha- but, Gran…?" Neville stuttered, casting a look back at a very amused Augusta Longbottom.

"She'll be fine. I gave a bit of a Sleep Spell to help her rest. She'll be in pain for a little while before I get back so I wanted her to be comfortable," Hannah babbled away, not looking back at him as she expertly weaved them through the aisle of wounded soldiers.

Neville thought about complaining that Gran should've been told what she'd been given but quickly realised she'd probably just tell Hannah to stick her bloody spell where the sun don't shine. Or maybe, she'd just kick up a fuss and say no, since Augusta seemed to have taken a liking to Hannah Abbott.

"Here we are," Hannah announced as they reached one of the posts. Healers were rushing about, mindlessly administering and taking vitals. It was like a well-oiled machine in here, Neville thought to himself as Hannah pushed him gently into one of the seats.

She disappeared out of sight for a moment and Neville felt a slight jab of irrational fear. What if she got waylaid by one of the other Healers? What if she got lost? It occurred to him that those were stupid questions but like he said: _irrational. _"Now where did I put the…ah, here we are!" Hannah arrived back carrying a jar of mushy green paste.

"Mimbletone Concoction." He mumbled under his breath and for the first time since she'd called him brave, Hannah gave him a startled smile.

"Yes," she confirmed, needlessly. "It helps kill infections but the wound will probably scar. Nothing I can do about that until it's old, I'm afraid."

Neville couldn't help but feel a little disappointed by that; he wasn't vain enough to want them gone so he would look better but the war had left him feeling soiled and dirty and he really just wanted to get rid of the mark where Bellatrix Lestrange, the embodiment of everything he hated about the war, had touched him.

Hannah pretended not to notice his frown, which he thought was pretty decent of her, as she put the paste along the bright red wound. "You'll be fine to go to the Great Hall after this," Hannah noted, her eyes still downcast. From this distance, Neville could pick out each one of her fine golden eyelashes.

_And now you're becoming creepy. _"I'm fine here." He told her, his voice a little creaky.

"Oh?" she still didn't look at him. "But don't you want to see your friends? Your grandmother will be fine here, I can even give you updates if you like."

Neville fidgeted because he couldn't very well tell her one of the reasons he wants to stay is so he can keep watching her. _You're a bloody stalker Longbottom. _"They'll be fine without me."

And for some reason, _that _made Hannah look up. "You should see them." She said, firmly. "They'll want to know you're alive and well."

Neville hissed as the Mimbletone Concoction started to seep through. "They'll be fine." He repeated, tightly. "I've already seen a few anyway, they'll spread the word."

Hannah started to go slightly pale and her face turned sombre. "Of course. Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood were in."

"Yeah," Neville eyed her, worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"F-fine." Hannah squeaked, accidentally knocking the jar of Mimbletone Concoction onto the floor. "_Oh for Helga's sake!_" she swore vibrantly and ducked down to pick it up.

And of course, being the teenage boy he was, Neville couldn't help but notice how he got a rather spectacular view down the front of her robes when she leaned over. _Yep, you're a pervert. It's official. _It was a _very _nice view however…

"Oh Merlin," snapped a grouchy voice from behind Hannah and she suddenly stood up, turning around rigidly. Neville eyed the St Mungo's Healer behind her, speculatively. He was a tall, fat man who was giving Hannah a look like a Hungarian Horntail.

"We have to use that you know Abbott! I know it might be hard for your pea-sized Hufflepuff brain to work out but throwing Mimbletone cream on the floor is a bloody waste when infection is breaking out all over the place!" he roared, snatching the jar out of her fingers. Neville felt like tossing the bloody thing at his head.

"Sorry sir," Hannah whispered, meekly and the man disappeared, growling to himself.

Neville, on the other hand, was in shock. "Are you kidding? Who the hell was he?" he felt shocked and angry and stunned that Hannah just sat there and _let _it happen like she was a muggle punching bag.

Hannah sniffed a little. "No one. He's a St Mungo's Healer. They're professionals and they don't like mistakes." She sounded so…robotic.

"Dropping a jar is common as Toads Weed." Neville told her bluntly. She cracked a small smile at the Herbology term which made him feel a little better.

"They don't like the Hogwarts helpers," she confided, gently sweeping her wand to heal the bruises on his arm. "They've been yelling at us since they got here. I just cop the brunt because I'm an easy target. They're just stressed I suppose-"

"They're wankers." Neville blurted out and suddenly went red at the idea of saying _that _in front of _Hannah. _Blonde, pig-tailed, blushing, pretty _Hannah Abbott. _ He expected someone as nice and sweet as her to just walk off in a huff but she surprised him. Of course.

"Well, maybe a little," she agreed, giggling. "They're under a lot of pressure. People want their families back, especially now."

"They still shouldn't talk to you like that." Neville grunted, still a little flushed. "S'not right."

"And what am I going to do?" Hannah teased, trying to take his mind off the soft sting of her wand. "Yell back at him?"

"You should," Neville agreed. "But you won't."

"Why?" Hannah suddenly started, her face stormy. "Because I'm a 'pea-brain Hufflepuff'?"

"No, no, no," Neville stumbled over his words. _Godric, think, Longbottom, think! _"You're- well, you-"

The light in her blue eyes was fading fast. "Well, if that's all, Mr Longbottom, you'll be right to go." She said professionally. Even though it wasn't the first time she'd dismissed him, it was the first time he hadn't wanted her to.

"No, I mean-" Neville sighed, frustrated. "You're too nice!"

"Pardon me?"

"You, you're too nice. That's why you wouldn't yell at him." Neville felt pleased with his answer.

"How would you know?" Hannah busied herself with arranging supplies on a tray and tried her best not to sound bitter. "We've never even spoken."

"Well let's speak then," Neville tried to lighten the mood desperately. "What's your favourite colour?"

Despite herself, Hannah cracked a small smile. "What?"

"Your favourite colour, your favourite plant, your favourite teacher?" Neville babbled off. He knew that he was probably making a fool of himself but he couldn't honestly bring himself to care enough to stop.

Hannah paused for a while. "Blue. I-I like blue." She whispered, her cheeks rosy. She couldn't believe herself. What was she thinking? One second she was actually _arguing _with Neville Longbottom and now she was talking to him? Like they were, dare she think it, _friends? _Honestly, today could not get any stranger.

"That's great!" Neville cheered, brightly. "I like blue as well! We're practically the same person!"

Hannah laughed, caught off guard by his infectious brightness. It was something she'd always admired about Neville in the first place. He made things seem a little less worse when he was around. "You need some food," she told him, helping him roll his sleeve back down. The little electrical jolts were still there. "You're practically hallucinatory."

"Come with me?" Neville asked, hopefully. She felt a 'yes' bubble on the tip of her tongue but then she remembered Ginny and Luna and how brave they were and how they'd fought alongside him, how they'd hugged him, how close they were. And how much it would hurt if she saw them all again.

Hannah shook her head, politely. "I can't. Too much work to be done, I'm afraid." She was about to turn away but she suddenly found herself taking a deep breath. _I'm a Hufflepuff, _she thought to herself, determined. _We're brilliant at making friends. _"But maybe we could talk later? You know, after everything's done?"

Neville beamed, awkwardly. "Er-s-sure. Um, I'll- I'll owl you? I mean, if that's alright?" he stuttered over his words. She thought he was adorable and nodded her head, shyly.

"Sure. I live at the Leaky Cauldron." She said, quietly. She didn't want to go into reasons now and thankfully, Neville seemed to shy away from the subject as well.

"Well…until later then?" Neville said, uncomfortably.

Hannah smiled gently. "Go get some food. Your grandmother will be fine."

Neville cracked a small smile. "Thanks. And you know, if that guy comes back…well, you know, I've already yelled at a homicidal maniac today so a Healer with an attitude won't be too much of a problem, right?" Personally, he thought the joke was bad, and tasteless and awful but Hannah giggled, waving him away.

"I'll be sure to inform you next time Healer Rice irritates me. You can come threaten him with your sword." She didn't clarify to the prying ears around them that it was the _Sword of freakin' Gryffindor _but the implication was clear. Neville smiled and left and Hannah sighed, giddily because she was going to owl Neville Longbottom and things couldn't be more perfect.


	3. Chapter 3

**Stitch Me Up  
><strong>_Tress Blues_

_3_

**Dear Hannah,**

**Gran and I are back home and she's feeling a lot better. She finally coughed up about that spell you helped her with but she's told me I can't be cross with you for keeping it a secret. I guess I should just thank you for helping her. I suppose this is the time to ask if you had any more run-ins with that Healer guy. I'm sure I could borrow the sword for a night or so if you needed someone to yell at him for you.**

**Anyway, I don't have much more to write so I suppose I'll just end it here. Write soon. Or not.**

**Neville**

_Dear Neville,_

_Thanks for your letter. I've been told I looked much happier once I received and to be honest, it is good to hear that Mrs Longbottom's doing better. The curse is something I've had…experience in so no you shouldn't be cross. Or you could be, I suppose, if you wanted to…I don't know._

_Unfortunately, I've been helping out at St Mungo's a lot lately so yes, there have been plenty of run-ins with grouchy Healers but I'm trying to get an apprenticeship here so I shouldn't complain. The sword shan't be necessary…yet. _

_You asked me, back at the castle, what my favourite plant and teacher were and I guess I shouldn't leave you hanging (not that you _were _hanging for an answer, I know you've got better things to be doing). _

_I like Ever-White Blooms, mostly. I don't know why, I know they aren't particularly useful but there's something really lovely about the way they remain so clean, even once they've died. And my favourite teacher, well, I'd have to say Professor McGonagall. She's a spectacular teacher and always very fair. I've only gotten into trouble with her twice but she's not as biased as a lot of the other professors are._

_I've got to go but please write back soon,_

_Hannah_

**Dear Hannah,**

**Can I ask what you're doing at Mungo's? I would've thought you'd be following Madam Pomfrey; you seemed far too good to be wasted doing assistant work. What Department have you been working in? Has anyone from Hogwarts gone through yet?**

**I did ask you and yes, I was wondering what your answer would be. You know, I'm surprised because my favourite teacher is Professor Sprout. She gave me a private greenhouse in Fifth Year for me to work in. Isn't it funny that we both like the other's Head of House?**

**Also, Ever-Whites are used in Peace Potions and Sleeping Draughts- on the contrary, they're very useful. I've never seen one though; they don't grow around Hogwarts. Do they really stay white all year round?**

**Write soon,**

**Neville**

_Dear Neville,_

_After the battle was just a temporary thing. I can't shadow Madame Pomfrey until I've cleared a spot in the Apprenticeship program, which I can get much easier at St Mungo's than Hogwarts. So here I am, tired and pressured and covered in unmentionables. We've been dealing with a lot of war victims and I've seen so many curses do so many horrible things. _

_To answer your question, I'm in the Intensive Care Unit and unfortunately I've seen a lot of Hogwarts students. Some of them have passed away since the battle from their injuries and it's horrible to watch them just fade away. In fact, just a day ago, I was scheduled to help with the werewolf victims and I had to leave the room. There were so many and they were all clawed up. It made it even worse when I realised I knew some of them._

_Sorry, I shouldn't be putting all this on you. It's not fair. Actually, I don't find it funny that we fancy each other's Heads of House best. I always thought you'd make an excellent Hufflepuff, even though I'm no Gryffindor._

_My family used to live in the Abbott Estate and there were enormous trees of Ever-Whites in the back garden. Every year in autumn, it seemed as though it were snowing; there would just be this overwhelming storm of white flowers falling to the ground. I didn't know they're used in Peace Potions but it doesn't surprise me. They're beautiful to watch grow and fall, all the while staying this glowing white colour._

_Write soon,_

_Hannah_

**Dear Hannah,**

**You shouldn't worry about writing that to me. It's what friends are for. Although, if it makes you feel better, I can write about Gran; she's been getting worse and I'm starting to become worried. The Healer we called insisted that it's just the leftover residue from the curse and her old age (Gran nearly attacked him for that comment) but she seems so weak. You know about this, don't you? Is this normal?**

**I'm sorry you had to see other students. It's hard, seeing people hurt but it's worse when you know them. I still can't believe how many underage kids snuck back in to fight. They were just children. They should have listened; they shouldn't have been there at all.**

**And personally, I think you would've made a great Gryffindor.**

**Neville**

_Dear Neville,_

_Your grandmother was hit with a curse called the Black Ink Curse. A death eater by the name of Evan Rosier invented it and it's meant to slowly poison the victim and burn their veins away so they literally die from the inside out. The Healer was right- it's entirely normal to feel the effects for years after its first inflicted. That's the real sick thing about the curse. I know about it because my mother and brother were killed in my Sixth Year from it._

_The underage kids are the hardest to treat but I can't feel angry with them. I can only feel angry that it was done to them. I know that, meek and mild as I am, I would've snuck back in if I were underage. And don't lie, I know you would've too._

_My term is coming up; soon I'll be able to actually apply for an apprenticeship here, if I can just get one of the healers to sign off for it. They seem to resent me because I'm so young and I'm really good with the students. They feel better taking treatment from one of their own I suppose._

_Tell me more about your grandmother. She seems like a character, although I would've attacked the healer as well. Who asks a lady her age? Honestly!_

_Hope your well,_

_Hannah_

**Dear Hannah,**

**Thank you for your advice. Gran says she trusts your opinion a fair side more than those 'dodgy, grabby Healers'. I'm really sorry about your mother and brother. I didn't mean to pry before, I was just worried about Gran. Were you close with your brother? I think, I would've been close to a sibling, anyone to share the wrath of Gran, I s'pose.**

**I guess I can't argue that I would've snuck back in if I was underage. Even though I still think it was stupid of them, I would've, if I thought I could help. I've got some news though: Professor McGonagall is commissioning help to rebuild Hogwarts and I've been selected to start the basics. I have no idea what she's thinking; I'll probably ruin the whole damn thing. But she says that no one knows the Hogwarts garden better so I'll have to trust she knows what she's doing.**

**I hope the Healer's sign off on your application because honestly, you deserve it. If they don't, then they've lost a really great healer in the making and it's completely their own faults.**

**I don't know what to tell you about Gran- she's really tough and she doesn't like taking no for an answer. I mean, you've met her, she's got a bit of an attitude.**

**By the way, she hit me for that last comment. I don't know why she's reading my letters though. Gran has asked if you'd like to come over for dinner sometime in the future? She's really eager to complain more about Healers.**

**She just hit me again.**

**I guess, we'll both be waiting for your reply,**

**Neville**

_Dear Neville,_

_My mother was pregnant when she died; I never knew my brother. His name was going to be Christian Royce Abbott. Every year, I put Ever-Whites on their graves to show I haven't forgotten them. Maybe that's why I like them so much. Thanks, by the way. I haven't talked about either of them in a long time. It's nice, you know, to think of them both._

_I think it's wonderful that Professor- oops, Headmistress- McGonagall asked you to help. You know so much about Hogwarts and I think she knew you were the only person who could restore the gardens and the forest; it's seen too much violence, it needs a little care._

_I blushed when I read your comment about my application. Thank you but honestly, I'm not truly expecting that they'll sign me off this round. Knowing them, they'll wait til next year to sign it but it means a lot. Also, I would love to come to dinner and complain about Healers. I'm afraid I don't have a lot of friends right now and the company would be nice. But I don't have a lot of time either so, perhaps we could make it for next month or so?_

_I'm sorry she hit you. I'm sure she's just saying I love you. In a very forceful manner._

_Hannah_

**Dear Hannah,**

**It's not fair what happened to your family. It stories like that that makes me so glad that Voldemort is dead and we don't have to live that way anymore. I think when I remake the gardens, I'll plant Ever-White Blooms, somewhere near the lake so people can see it. You're right about the violence. I think it'll be the perfect thing for the future generations to see and remember us all by.**

**I can't write much (Gran's got me waiting on her hand and foot) but shall we say the fourteenth? I'd really like to show you the gardens I've got growing around the side of our house. See you soon, hopefully,**

**Neville**


	4. Chapter 4

**Stitch Me Up  
><strong>_Tress Blues_

_4_

"Oh hello there, Hannah," said the small, stout witch at the reception desk at St Mungo's, surprised. "I didn't think you had a shift today."

Hannah fidgeted, uncomfortable. "I don't, I'm here to see my dad, actually." She tried to sound cheerful but Morgan's face fell slightly, pitying.

"Of course dear," she said, quietly, sliding over a pair of passes. Hannah frowned, quizzically. "Well I take it Neville's going in with you." Morgan explained, sounding bemused. "He's here twice a week usually."

Neville behind her shuffled and smiled at Morgan, bashfully. "Hi Mrs Potts."

"Hello there dear," Morgan greeted him, happily. "You two know where to go, I suppose."

Indeed, Hannah and Neville both knew exactly where to go.

They boarded the elevator, both of them feeling intensely awkward. Hannah hands were sweaty as she thought of how her father might react to Neville's presence today. She'd only seen him every now and then, busy with school and the apprenticeship to spend enough time with him. But Hannah had long ago realised and accepted that Alan Abbott was sick and probably incurable.

It made her feel awful that she was nervous about introducing Neville. The two had gone to dinner at the Longbottom Mansion and had gone out a few times after that as friends but this was wildly different; this was _meeting the parents._

"Hannah? You okay?" Neville asked, quietly as the elevator pinged at the fourth floor. The Psychiatric Ward.

Hannah nodded, grimly. "Yes, let's go." They stepped out onto the floor and, almost on automatic, made their way down the hall to the Intense Division. "Shall we see mine or yours first?" Hannah tried to keep her tone even but it cracked, as it always did when she visited her Dad.

Neville grabbed her hand before he could talk himself out of it. "It'll be fine. How about we see mine first? I don't think your dad would want to see you upset?" he soothed.

Preoccupied with the feeling of her hand in his (which was rough from all his days working on the Hogwarts Gardens), Hannah didn't realise she was beginning to cry. She sniffed, pathetically and nodded. "Alright, yours first."

The pair entered the Longbottom's room, Room 521 and found themselves greeted by a cozy little environment, with two chairs, a table and a pair of beds. In which were the Longbottoms.

Hannah could immediately see Neville in both of them: Alice Longbottom was short and tiny, with a lovely round face and huge eyes. She seemed very pleased that Neville had entered the room and she clapped her hands, clumsily like a little girl.

Frank Longbottom, on the otherhand, seemed curious about the girl who'd entered with his son. He was much taller than his wife, very much like Neville in stature and his eyes were the same shade as well. He seemed tired and twitched when Neville came closer but didn't make much more of an effort to respond.

"Hey Mum," Neville leaned down and kissed Alice's cheek. She giggled and tried to grab his hair, her movements awkward and stiff. "Yeah, I know, I got a haircut. It was getting too long to work with since its normally sunny when I'm at Hogwarts. The gardens are looking pretty good though. They've almost got the Great Hall back up and running and it's like it was always there."

Alice patted his cheek but her gaze had turned to Hannah, who, carrying a bouquet of Ever-White Blooms, hung about at the foot of the Longbottom's beds, unsure of if Neville wanted some time alone. "That's Hannah, Hannah Abbott, Mum. Oh Dad, don't frown." Neville laughed, patting his father's hand. "She's alright. She's a Hufflepuff, she's shy. Come over."

He beckoned and Hannah walked over, delicately taking a seat beside Frank on his bed. He seemed very bewildered by her presence but something in his eyes flickered at the sight of her and Neville together.

"I'm Hannah." She murmured, gently. "I think you knew my parents at Hogwarts. My mum at least. Her name was Debra Harding, she was a Hufflepuff like me. You know your son's helping to rebuild the area around the Hufflepuff Commons? It was destroyed but since the rooms are underground, everything was alright. It's just the outside." Hannah cast a small smile at Neville, who was holding his mother's hand, carefully.

"Actually, he's put up lovage and whistlewood, because when lovage blooms, it turns golden yellow and whistlewood has black bark. It's subtle but I s'pose it's fitting, considering the House colours." Hannah shook her head, ruefully. "However shall we remain hidden now?"

"You'll find a way, I'm sure. No outsider's been in the Hufflepuff Commons for hundreds of years. Even during last year, the Carrows couldn't find their way in." Neville replied, shrugging.

"Of course they couldn't." Hannah said, proudly. "But how do _you_ know that?"

Neville sighed, laboured. "I'm working with Hermione every day. The woman can recite _Hogwarts: A History _in her sleep."

Frank let out a snore-like sound and they all laughed. Neville had explained that his parents were conscious but their minds were degraded and all but gone. They had just enough cohesion to realise when someone was in the room apart from themselves and they'd completely forgotten their son.

They continued talking but eventually, it was time for their daily naps so Neville and Hannah lifted themselves off the beds and made their way to the door. "Thanks, for this," Neville mumbled.

Hannah returned the favour and slipped her hand into his. "It's my pleasure. Honestly, your parents are sweet and kind. Just like their son."

Neville looked like he was about to reply but he paused when they heard commotion from inside the room. "Eurgh." Called Frank and Neville was immediately by his side, frowning.

"What's wrong Dad?" he asked, concerned.

Frank waved him away. "Eurgh!" he yelled again. Hannah realised he was looking at her and slowly made her way over, which seemed to calm him down a little more. Frank held out his hand and Hannah carefully slid her shaking palm beneath it, only to feel a very familiar softness brush her fingers.

"Thankyou," she whispered, realising that there was a very small part of Frank Longbottom that recognised that she made his son happy. Hannah pulled away, sniffling and showed Neville what his father had given her.

She unfurled her fingers and inside was a dry but pristine Ever-White Bloom, crumpled and dainty in her palm. Neville swallowed behind her and reached forward to hug his dad, tightly. "Thanks Dad," he said, sounding a little hoarse. "We'll be back later, alright?"

Frank seemed to switch off at that point. He grunted and walked over to where his wife was wiggling her fingers in front of her face, in total amazement. The small, sweet act of Frank taking Alice's hand as he settled in to listen to the Wizard radio was enough to break Hannah's heart as she made her way outside.

"My mum loved Ever-Whites." She whispered to Neville as they slowly walked to the next room. "She knew your Dad at school. He must have known." She didn't add the second part of her realisation that Ever-White blooms were traditionally given to the bride by the groom's parents at their wedding but she figured Neville would work it out later.

As they paused outside Room 736, Hannah hung back to speak with Neville. "Just don't mention the war, remember?" she pleaded and Neville simply nodded, having heard the precautions over and over before they'd decided to make this trip.

Hannah brightened herself and entered the room. "Hi Dad," she murmured to the man sitting at the table. He was handsome in a ruined way- time and pain had turned him grey where he was once blonde and dull where he was once blue eyed.

His face crinkled as he smiled at Hannah. "Hello darling," he said cheerfully. "My goodness, has Hogwarts ended again? So early, it seems." His gaze slid onto Neville behind her. "And who's this? A boyfriend brought home from school?"

"No Dad," Hannah blushed. "Just a mate. This is Neville. We'll only be here a little while but he wanted to say hi."

"Of course," Alan Abbott greeted, cheerfully. "Hello Neville, how are you?"

"Very well sir." Neville responded, shaking the man's hand.

"Here, darling, I'll ask your mother if she's made tea yet. _Debra? _Debra, Hannah's home!" he called and chuckled when there was no reply. "She must be in the garden. No matter. So how are you darling?" Alan pulled Hannah down into a kiss and a hug.

"Good thanks Dad. How's things here?" She handled him like a pro, Neville noted. Never pointedly referring to Hogwarts, or St Mungo's or her mother or brother. Everything was 'there' or 'here' or 'he' or 'she'. His own parents had never required this kind of treatment; he knew Hannah must hate it, see it as lying but Alan Abbott was stuck in delusions of the past and it would do no good to upset him over it.

While the three of them chatted, Neville found himself wondering about the flower his Dad had given Hannah. Frank Longbottom was one of the reasons Neville liked Herbology so much; even though he was much better at it, Frank had been a top-student back in his day. He'd known Hannah's mother so maybe it was just a gift to what he thought was an old friend?

"…and what do you do Neville?" Alan asked, agreeably. "At school?"

"Neville's helping remodel the Hogwarts Gardens Dad," Hannah began happily. "He's excellent at Herbology."

"Hannah makes me seem a lot better than I am," Neville said, modestly.

Alan laughed but he paused mid-chuckle. "Remodel? Why would they need…no. They don't need remodelling." Alan muttered to himself. Sensing the rising danger, Hannah gestured to the Healer-Button on the side of the door and Neville pressed it quickly as Alan's delusion began to crumble.

"Doesn't need it…no, there wasn't…oh no…oh Merlin, oh Merlin, no…Debra? _Debra? CHRISTIAN! _Hannah, where are they? _Hannah why are you bleeding? Hannah! Debra! Christian! Oh Merlin, no!_" the old wizard began screaming, thrashing about his room as his daughter tried to settle him.

"Dad, _Dad, _please, Dad, I'm alright! Dad, look at me, _please…_?" she begged but Neville pulled away just in time as Alan swung around and threw a chair where Hannah had once been standing.

"_Nooo! My baby! My wife, my child! My daughter! My baby! Nooo!"_ he wailed, agonized as the Security-Wizards arrived to restrain him. A Healer waved his wand and the Sedative Spell quickly took effect. "My baby…my little girl…my sweetheart…"

Hannah sobbed in Neville's grip, turning away from the scene as they slowly levitated him into bed, where Alan Abbott's fractured mind would no doubt piece itself back together by the morning, back into the hallucination that he was alive and well, living peacefully with his wife and daughter and son.

Neville slowly guided Hannah out of the room, down the elevator, barely tossing the security passes back to Morgan as he left the building. She was so tiny, so thin and blonde and pale. She hadn't been eating properly or sleeping enough, the application for her apprenticeship was driving her to destruction and all of it was pouring out of her in waves, her father's voice still ringing in her ears: _My baby, my little girl, my sweetheart…_

Though he'd never had much experience comforting witches, Neville knew how to comfort families of patients in the Psychiatric Ward and Hannah appreciated it as she clung to his shirt and bawled her eyes out. Almost fifteen minutes later, once she'd calmed down, Hannah sighed, miserably.

"He was going so well…" she whimpered. "I thought he'd be fine for today."

"It was my fault," Neville said, feeling rotten. "If we hadn't mentioned the Gardens…"

"Stop," Hannah said, tired. "It was me. I should've known that would set him off." She sighed again. "Sometimes I wish I lived in his world. It must be beautiful there."

"Well…" Neville mumbled. "I rather like you this world."

Both parties turned bright pink.

"You…you do?" Hannah whispered.

Neville nodded, awkwardly. "Well, yeah, I mean…we've been talking and we're really great mates and-"

"Right. Mates." Hannah said, morosely.

"But I'd really like it if we could be…more." Neville finished off in a whisper, so faint Hannah could scarcely believe she'd heard it.

"What?" she murmured, not daring to believe her ears.

_Come on mate, _Neville thought inwardly. _Time to show some of that bloody Gryffindor courage…_ "Look, Hannah, I don't know another girl on the planet who would come here with me today and meet my catatonic parents and treat them like you did." He began, taking a deep breath. "Nor do I know anyone who would let me meet someone so important to them and forgive me when I messed up so badly. No, it's alright, it _was _my fault.

And look, I know this probably sounds really stupid to you because you're just…gorgeous and I'm me and I know you probably want to be friends but I just can't help telling you all of this because your sweet and kind and funny and bloody beautiful and _ifancyyou_." Neville finished with a whisper.

There it was. Everything was out in the open and Neville had never felt more like throwing himself under the Knight Bus than he did now, in the face of the silence of Hannah Abbott.

"What?" came the faint, stunned whisper of words.

"I-I fancy you, Hannah." Neville said, once more, this time feeling more and more stupid for telling all this after he'd just set her father off on a panic attack and they were outside _St Mungo's._

"What?"

"I _fancy _you!" Neville yelled and was immediately greeted by a '_shush!_'. His spirits sank.

She didn't want him to tell her. She was embarrassed. Of course she was, she was beautiful and probably had hundreds of wizards ask her out, Merlin knows Neville had watched a lot of them make eyes at her when they passed by-

"Don't say it so loudly!" Hannah murmured, sounding very close to his face. Of course, he wouldn't have known since he hadn't opened his eyes since his first confession.

"Sorry, Merlin, that was stupid, can we just pretend that _didn't happen?_" Neville gushed, feeling lower than horned snails.

"It's not that."

_What?_

"What?" he echoed, dumbly. How could it _not?_

"I'm trying to keep those words to myself. I want to keep them forever." Hannah confessed, her breath brushing his cheek as she did. Neville slowly opened his eyes and found her endlessly blue gaze staring right at him, bursting with happiness. "I want them. I want them for my own. I don't want everyone else to have them." She breathed against his lips.

"They're yours." Neville mumbled, honestly.

She broke into a beautiful, bright smile. "I would be _honoured _to have them Neville. You wonderful, silly wizard." And then she kissed him.

And it was soft and sweet and Hannah realised her mother had been right:

You really did see stars.


	5. Chapter 5

**Stitch Me Up  
><strong>_Tress Blues_

_5_

"_Daddy! Alice is picking on me again!_"

"I was _not!_"

"Was too!"

"Your turn." Hannah called as she single-handedly cooked dinner and carried her third baby at the same time. The bump was more pronounced than ever and Neville knew any day now they were going to have another Longbottom on their hands.

Sighing dramatically, Neville made his way to the playroom of the Longbottom Estate, previously called the Abbott Home, and was greeted by the accusing eyes of his six year old Frankie Christian and nine year old Alice Ginny. To his surprise, after Hannah had been convinced that Neville had never actually dated the fiery haired Potter, the two witches became rather good friends and Ginny was Alice and Frankie's godmother.

"_He _started it!" Alice screeched, pointing a finger at her brother who gaped, offended at the accusation.

"I _did _not!"

"He did so! He was asking _stupid _questions!"

"I was not!"

"Yes you were!"

"They _weren't stupid!_"

"Oi," Neville called over the accusations. "Both of you shush and tell me what's going on. _One _at a time." He clarified as both his children began to open their mouths. "Frankie?"

Frank sniffled. "I asked Alice how you and mummy met because Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny met at Hogwarts and I thought you did too-"

"And I _told _him that of course you did because where else do boy wizards meet girl witches?" Alice blinked her bright blue eyes up at him, innocently, so much like her mother with her soft pink mouth and pale skin. Frankie's confused, dark eyes were all Neville's though.

"But Mummy said they didn't!" Frankie yelled.

Neville picked his son up to divert his attention from another fight. "Come on you two, dinner's getting cold." He smiled at the way Alice insisted she would beat them to the table and the way Frankie tried to force his father to move faster so they would win. Neville moaned and groaned about how hard it was to move with all the added wait and Frankie giggled, making toothy smile like his namesake's.

Hannah and Neville had been married almost ten years and nothing made Neville prouder than to know he had a beautiful, spectacularly kind wife he was very much in love with, a sweet little girl that would never have a boyfriend if he could help it and his energetic, giggling son, who was absolutely perfect in his own right.

"Mummy, Mummy, I won!" Alice crowed as they started dinner. Frankie frowned but just kept stabbing his meal in retaliation. Neville helped him chop up his food so he could eat it easier and solemn dark eyes looked up at his Dad, his hero as he did.

"Yes you did baby." Hannah kissed Alice's crow-black locks and tucked in her seat. "Now elbows off the table."

As a mother, Hannah was in her element. It was perfect mix of care-taking, love and maternal instinct that made her a spectacular mother and wife and Neville couldn't remember ever being so lucky in his whole life.

Neville winked at Alice and dragged his elbows onto the table. Hannah didn't even look up from serving Frankie his peas to smack Neville on the back of his head. Alice giggled as her Daddy winced theatrically. "She gets that from Gran," he whispered to his kids who laughed as Hannah threw him a cheeky look.

"She doesn't invite me over just for tea you know." She hummed, smiling. "Which reminds me, Harry and Ginny are coming round for tea next weekend."

"Is James coming?" Alice squealed at the thought of her best friend. "We need to talk about what we're gonna take to Hogwarts."

"I'm sure he will love but that's two years off, why don't you give it a rest?" Hannah replied. "Frankie, eat your peas, please."

"I don't like them!" Frankie wailed. Neville scooped up a spoonful and ate them with a gratifying hum.

"How can you not Franko? They're like little green puffapods!" he cheered as Frankie dug into his peas. Hannah beamed at him, amused.

"Relate everything to plants, I swear, why did I marry you?" she teased.

Neville leaned over and kiss her soundly. The electrical jolts were still there after all these years. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Still does." She admitted, deepening the kiss. They were interrupted by the chorus of 'ew' they received from their kids and backed away with a silent promise of 'later'.

"Mummy?" Alice asked, smelling another victory. "How did you meet Daddy?"

Hannah smiled, fondly. "Well, your father has terrible eyesight dear. He didn't notice me until out Seventh Year, during the battle Uncle Harry and Daddy fought in."

"Was it bad?" Frankie asked, wonderingly as he kicked his legs under the table.

"It was very bad." Hannah confirmed. "I know because I was a Healer for the people who got hurt. That's how I met your father."

"So it _was _at Hogwarts!" Alice yelled.

"But it wasn't at school!" Frankie argued.

They both turned to their father who shrugged and looked at his wife, who was still beautiful and kind and sweet as she had been when his Gran had first snapped at her, bringing her to his attention.

"Your mother and I met at Hogwarts, though it wasn't at school," he began diplomatically before he smiled and took her hand under the table. "She stitched me up."

**THE END**


End file.
